


Pen Pals and Love Letters

by prucanada



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Interspecies Relationship(s), POV Alternating, Pen Pals, Pregnancy, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 09:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prucanada/pseuds/prucanada
Summary: It started out as a project for school. Write a letter to a stranger.In which Mikey becomes acquainted with the love of his life.





	Pen Pals and Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Between the ages of 9 and 15 I was Incredibly Thirsty for Michelangelo.  
> It's kind of surprising that I only ever wrote one Mikey/OC story and it wasn't even a self-insert!!  
> Anyway I wrote this in 2010 and I am Ashamed.

** Lucy **

It started out as a project for school.  _ Write a letter to a stranger _ . Okay, so then what? She was too shy to just walk up to some random stranger and hand them a letter. She didn’t want to put it in someone’s mailbox, either—she might be caught, and she’d certainly be embarrassed.

              It was while she was walking down the street one evening that a memory hit her, a memory from long ago, when she was still too young even for kindergarten.

_ She’d been playing out in the street, late in the afternoon, when there were few cars out. She’d gone chasing after her ball, and it had rolled into an open manhole. _

_               She’d stopped and stared at it, tears forming in her eyes—it was her favorite ball. But how was she to get it back? _

_               And suddenly, the ball had come shooting up out of the hole, and she had caught it in midair. Strange laughter had come out of the hole, and she’d scampered off, scared of the goblins in the sewers. _

__    What if there was someone down there? Maybe she could write a letter to them…

              And so she put pen to page, wrote a letter as her teacher had said, and, the next night, had slipped it down a grate.

              She’d never really expected anything other than a citation for littering.

              She’d certainly never expected a _ reply _ .

** Michelangelo **

              He had been skateboarding again, going through the sewers and enjoying every second of it. And then suddenly, a piece of paper had fallen from a grate and landed right into his hand. He stopped his board and, pulling out a flashlight, read the address on the envelope.

_ To the Sewer-Dweller,  _ it said.  _ From Lucy. _

__  So he’d tucked the letter into his belt, turned his board around, and gone home.

              He’d pulled it out as soon as he’d arrived at home, shouting something about a pen pal. When his family had gathered around him, he’d begun to read it.

_               Dear Sir or Madam, _ it began. Mikey had laughed.

_ My name is Lucy Dinan, and I am a senior in high school. I’ve been given the assignment to write a letter to a stranger, and so I chose you. Please reply to this letter, if you can. _

_               Sincerely, Lucy J. Dinan _

__ That was all it said, that first letter. And yet, it had been intriguing to the carefree turtle. So, he’d written out a reply, on the best piece of paper he could find, and tucked it into a slightly wrinkled and grimy envelope. Then, he’d taken it back to where he’d found it, and pushed it up between the bars of the grate, into the street.

****

** Lucy **

              She’d gone back out the next morning, knowing there would be no reply—likely, her letter had landed in the water and simply melted away.

              So when she saw the grimy envelope lying on the street, she’d picked it up, expecting to see her own handwriting on it. Instead, in big, clumsy letters, it said,  _ To the Surface-Dweller _ .

              She’d felt her heart skip a beat. So there really  _ was _ someone down there? And they really  _ had  _ found her letter, and even replied to it? She‘d sat down on the curb and opened it.

_ Dear Sir or Madam, _ it began. Lucy had chuckled.

_ I got your letter last night. Thanks for picking me! My name’s Michelangelo, and I don’t go to school—never have. My brothers and I don’t need school. Know why? _

_               ‘Cause we’re NINJAS! Hahaha! _

_               Sincerely, Michelangelo. _

__        Lucy had tucked the letter into her backpack and pulled out a new sheet of paper and an envelope, and wrote out another reply. She had sealed it, addressed it, and dropped it down the grate before heading off to school.

** Michelangelo **

__ He had gone back around noon to see if she’d gotten the letter. A bright piece of paper lay on the grungy concrete, and he had lunged for it. Sure enough, it was for him.

_               To Michelangelo, the Sewer-Dweller _ , it said. He opened it.

_ Dear Michelangelo, _

_               I sure was surprised to receive your reply! I’ll get an A on this project for sure! _

_               Why don’t you go to school? How old are you? How many brothers do you have? Do you have sisters, or parents? Are you really ninjas? _

_               Write back! _

_               Lucy _

__ He’d grinned, and pulled out the stationery and pen he’d brought along, just in case. He’d written out a new reply, addressed the envelope, and slipped it back up to the street. Then he’d turned around, still clutching the new letter, and rolled on home.

****

** Lucy **

              She was crying when she reached the spot that afternoon. Kids could be so cruel to each other. But she had brightened considerably when she saw the letter laying there. She’d sat down on the curb, picking it up and noting that the envelope was even dirtier this time, and that the paper inside was torn in several places.

_ Dear Sir Lucy, _

_               I hope you get an A! But don’t expect one, ‘cause then you’ll be even happier when you see your grade! _

_               We don’t go to school ‘cause we have everything we need down here: Books, a teacher, TV, internet. Why do you go to school? _

_               My brothers and I—there are four of us—are all seventeen years old. How old are you? _

_               We don’t have any parents, but Master Splinter’s kinda like our dad. He’s taught us everything we know! _

_               And we really are ninjas. Look out your window at night—maybe you’ll see us. _

_               Tell me more about you! _

_               Later! _

_               Mikey _

__           She wrote the letter back then, enclosing a few extra envelopes and sheets of paper for this Mikey guy. Slipping it back into the grate, she’d headed back home, whistling a tune, her bad mood forgotten.

** Michelangelo **

__     He hadn’t been able to get to the letter that day—he’d sprained his ankle in a fight earlier. So he’d sent his brother Leo out for it, and when he came back, he’d handed it to Mikey, sitting back and waiting to hear what this mystery girl had to say this time.

_ Dear Michelangelo, _

_               I’ll take your advice about the grade. I’ll be expecting a D, so I’ll be super excited when I get that A! _

_               I think it’s cool that you don’t go to school—school sucks. Seriously. I only go ’cause it’s my last year (and my parents force me to). _

_               I’m seventeen, too! How awesome is it that we’re the same age? I was born July 25 th . When were you born? _

_               I live with my parents in a tiny apartment down the road. I have long brown hair and green eyes. What about you? I’m five-foot-six—how tall are you? My full name is Lucinda Juanita Dinan. What’s yours? _

_               I’ll be looking outside my window tonight, so you’d better be out there! _

_               Your friend, Lucy. _

_               P.S. I put some fresh paper and envelopes in here for you. I hope you don’t mind. _

__ He’d grinned and set to work on the reply at once, his brother Leo shaking his head and smiling. Maybe this could be a good thing for his little brother…

** Lucy **

              That night, Lucy had looked out her window , and she’d thought she saw four figures leaping from rooftop to rooftop across the city. But she was probably imagining it.

              The next morning, she’d gone out to find the letter waiting for her in the street. She’d ripped it open and sat on the curb.

_ Sir Lucy, _

_               I guess you could say that my brothers and I were born on April 22nd, but we don’t actually know. There’s a good reason for that, but I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you. _

_               I have blue eyes, but I don’t have hair. I’m about six feet tall—I guess a little taller. You already know my full name, ‘cause I don’t have a last name. _

_               I wonder. If we were to meet, would you understand me? _

_               Mikey. _

__  She had been a bit confused by this latest response, but she’d written the letter anyway. She’d slipped it between the bars, dropping it down again.

** Michelangelo **

__   Weeks had passed in this way, letters found and letters sent. He’d shared much about himself with her—his favorite foods, drinks, hobbies. He’d discovered that they both had a love of comics, especially _ Captain America _ and  _ X-Men.  _ They had a lot in common, actually. And they had differences, too, and those differences were exciting and interesting. Mikey loved writing to Lucy.

              But he’d also learned some of her secrets. Her parents were abusive, hitting her and shouting at her. Her classmates had deemed her “ugly” and “freakish,” and they tormented her daily.

              He wanted to protect her, and that scared him.

** Lucy **

              She loved going outside to find a new letter waiting for her each morning and some afternoons. Mikey was the first real friend she’d ever had, and she felt a deep connection with him.

              One morning, a bright, sunny Saturday, she’d gone to “check her mail,” and a thought had occurred to her, as she was slipping her correspondence through the grate.

_ She didn’t have to go _ .

              She could stay right here, and wait for him.

              And so she had laid down on the concrete, knowing there would be few cars passing by this morning, and waited.

****

** Michelangelo **

              His ankle was feeling better that day. That day that really changed his life.

              He had felt a little disappointed when he hadn’t seen an envelope lying on the ground. But then he’d looked up—and he’d seen the envelope dangling there. But what was holding it up?

              It was a hand. A human hand. The hand of a girl.  _ Lucy was waiting for him! _

__  He hadn’t known how long she’d been waiting—it was nearly noon—and he hadn’t known what to do or say. He’d been hoping to meet his mysterious pen pal, but…

              He’d taken a deep breath and stepped forward, into the dim light filtering in from the grate. He’d reached up and grasped the envelope, his fingers just brushing hers. She’d gasped and looked down; and all she could see were two eyes in the darkness, and three green fingers. _Green fingers_.

              “Michelangelo?” She’d asked, knowing it could only be him.

              “Lucy?” A higher-pitched, but definitely masculine, voice had answered.

** Lucy **

__    She’d been scared, at first, when he’d revealed himself to her. Who would’ve thought her pen pal would be a giant talking turtle? 

              But he’d been sweet, and she’d known him from his letters. She had accepted him for who he was, and he had accepted her for her.

              After that initial meeting, she’d been perfectly fine with him, and they’d spent hours together every day, exploring the sewers or relaxing in his lair. She’d never had a friend like him, and she knew that she’d never find a friend like him again.

** Michelangelo **

__  One day, Lucy had come to him late, with a black eye and a dark handprint on one cheek. He’d grown angry, knowing her alcoholic mother had beaten her again. He’d begun teaching her self-defense. She hadn’t wanted to learn—said she didn’t want to hurt anyone—but he’d insisted.

              And it was while he was showing her proper nunchaku technique a few days later that he’d kissed her.

              He hadn’t known what had gotten into him, and he’d pulled back, mumbling apologies. But she’d just smiled at him, and pulled his lips back to hers.

** Lucy **

__   Her eighteenth birthday had been a cause for celebration. Now that she was an adult, and since she’d already graduated high school, she could legally leave her parents’ house. She moved in with Mikey, her turtle-esque boyfriend, glad to be away from her old family and together with her new one.

              But Master Splinter had said “NO!” to their sharing a room.

** Michelangelo **

__  They’d gotten married by the preacher of a small church. Lucy had looked gorgeous in her simple, lacy white wedding dress, though he had seemed a little strange and dumpy in his disguise. The preacher hadn’t demanded any birth certificates, hadn’t given them an official marriage certificate. He’d just had them recite the vows, and had announced them Man and Wife.

              He hadn’t thought it was possible—but Lucy had known it would happen.

              They’d honeymooned in a small cabin owned by their friend Casey Jones, spending a blissful week together, just the two of them.

              And when they’d come back home, Master Splinter couldn’t really deny them their own room.

** Lucy **

__    She hadn’t thought it could happen— _ how could a turtle and a human reproduce? _ —but nearly two years after they’d married, she’d given birth to a beautiful baby girl. She’d seemed human, as the mother held her in her arms, but would she stay human? Only time would tell.

** Michelangelo **

              He had watched his wife and his daughter sleep, their chests rising and falling in rhythm. He’d smiled. How could one turtle be this lucky? What had started out as a school assignment— _ Write a letter to a stranger _ —had turned into a deep and enduring love.

              He’d bent down and kissed his wife’s forehead, and she’d opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at him.

              “I love you, Mikey,” she’d murmured.

              “And I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever want to erase your sins?  
> But instead you post them up on a public site to archive them forever?


End file.
